


Slut

by Romanshome



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Body Dysmorphic Disorder, F/M, Heavy Angst, Porn with Feelings, Slut Shaming, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29263560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romanshome/pseuds/Romanshome
Summary: Amara Rockwell is faced with many challenges during her final year at Hogwarts. Happily dating the popular Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory, charming and handsome, she finds that the certain fair haired boy who sat beside her in class was different. Mysterious and hostile. But the only problem was that he was in love with her sister.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Original Female Character(s), Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 458





	1. “Gone”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> —
> 
> writing this at 3 am so hello hi   
> lets do this shit ma
> 
> also this chapter sucks but it'll get better i swear
> 
> —

"Fuck Ames," Cedric breathed into the petite girl's hair, her brown curls flowing down her nimble shoulders as her plump lips grazed against his firm jaw. Her palms were slapped over his chest, his muscles tensing beneath her tendons as at her motions—his breath hitching as she left light kisses along his throat. She felt a small smirk tug onto her lips as his fingers on her hips tightened, pulling himself away from her with a flicker in his brown hues. "You need to get to class. I'll walk you—before you make me explode in this bloody hallway."

His scent of pumpkin wafted up her nostrils as her forest green hues flashed over at him, her head tilting to the side with a mishevious glint in her eyes. His hands securely hung loosely from her hips as his back leaned against the brick—stacked wall of the hallway, his hooded eyes gazing down at hers with hidden intents.

She blinked slowly—alluring. "Hm—why don't we just skip class? I hate DADA anyways. Carrow spits too much and it always manages to somehow hit me, even when I manage to snag a seat in the back."

The corners of his lips twitched.

"Not a chance. We're already right out of your class."

Amara felt disappointment well up inside of her, brown hues rolling into the back of her head—as she sent him a sharp nod. Her eyes narrowed as he grasped his hand into her dainty one, before holding it up to his lips. His lips pressed against her knuckles lovingly as his grey eyes locked with hers. "I'll meet you in the dining room for dinner, yeah? I have a Prefect's meaning after Alchemy, and then I'm all yours."

Her mouth twisted to the side, her fingers twirling with his. She blinked up at him with hooded eyes.

"I'll miss you."

His eyes glinted, his hand flying up to her ear. His fingers tucked the curls falling over her face behind the shell—sending her his warm smile. She felt a small sigh release from her lips as she leaned into his touch, before she watched him lean in. His sweet scent of pumpkin and fall filled her senses with an intense and overwhelming amount as his palm caressed the flesh of her cheek, igniting the bits of flames to erupt inside her abdomen. Her toes lifted into the air as his warm lips pressed against hers, her palm flying to his chest as the other intertwined their fingers together.

Her heart erupted with the inflammation of pure passion for the boy in front of her—his lips on hers speaking the unspoken vow of the realm of external bliss. She felt herself press onto his figure once more, until this time—he vanished from beside her.

He was gone.

Her eyes fluttered open to be met with the horrifying sight of Cedric's body laid limply on the floor, blood pouring out of his mouth in thick sequences. The uniform for the Trip-Wizard tournament was stretched across his figure, smudged with dirt and other body fluids. His eyes were hollow and empty, the glint gone as they started up at the sky—which had morphed into storm clouds that boomed across the canvas of the world. Her heart began racing as she stepped back, heading the cheering of the crowd behind her.

A scream tore from her lips.

A heart wrenching sound of agony.

The ground had began to shake, making her knees crash to the ground. She felt her eyes burn with the essence of tears as a sob ripped her lungs—hunching over to slap her palms onto her boyfriends' chest. Her cheeks were pink and chest was sunk, repeatedly hitting the boy beneath her as she attempted to shake him back to life. "Cedric—wake up! Ced—wake up Ced. Please—you can't—leave me. I-Ced!"

He stared past her, up at the whirling clouds—his soul already rising into the heavens. She felt her lower lip tremble as she collapsed onto him, her face digging into the crook of his neck—feeling a pair of cold hands trying to pull her away from the brunette boy before her. She let out a cry as she clung to him, never breaking her promise that she was not ever going to give up on him. Her body trembled with angst as she recounted his name in desperate chants.

Amara felt her entire entire body jolt awake—her jaw shaking with fear. The cool wooden brown exterior of the desk before her slightly shook due to her quivering muscles, blinking quickly as her eyes squinted. Her throat was dry and hoarse, her brown hues focusing on the sudden brightness that penetrated her hues. The thought hit her mind.

She had fallen asleep during class.

Her lips twisted to the side in distaste, eyes flickering over to the man situating papers onto his desk. His quill swiftly moved across the parchment of graded works, his brown brows furrowed deeply in concentration. It appears Professor Carrow had completely disregarded the fact that she had fallen asleep—focusing on the work ahead of him. She felt a surge of relief course through her, wiping the head of sweat that rolled down her forehead with the back of her hand before scooting her chair more towards her desk.

She glanced over at the empty seat beside her, wondering if he would actually show.

Draco Malfoy.

It was obvious that he had to be the one who sat beside her—since he was the only one absent during class. The students had just returned back from Fall Break, and in celebration of the new semester—Carrie thought it would be a magnificent idea to seat the students next to those they have interacted with the least.

Amara didn't like the idea at all. If anything, she absolutely dreaded it with every single fiber in her body. When she heard the name Draco Malfoy roll off his tongue, the muscles withering inside of her contracted into disgust. On the other hand, perhaps he wouldn't show up to class just for today. She could have one more day before being forced to interact with Hogwarts' most renowned player and bully.

The platinum haired had been notorious for having sex with many girls—but the two main ones had always been Pansy Parkinson and Lavender Brown. It seemed that they were his two playthings, and the girls despised each other for having to compete for his attention. It was distinct that he had been extremely attracted to them physically, but Amara watched how Draco would ignore Lavender when she attempted to speak to him at the Slytherin Table. She held a letter in her hands, a hopeful smile on her pink lips that matched the glint in her eyes. But when she approached him seated at the platform, picking at the fluffy plate of eggs placed before him—he sent her a raised brow before sending his best friend, Theodore Nott, the most arrogant smirk before shaking his head.

He ignored her.

The poor girl had turned around and scurried out of the dining hall with wet cheeks—a hand slapped over her mouth to suppress her sob. Amara sat beside her best friend, Hermione, as they watched the scene unfold.

She lost her appetite after that. Her pano cakes were left untouched.

Pansy on the other hand, was one of Draco's best friends. Amara could tell by the way she stared at him, being there at his side at all times—that she was in love with the pale Slytherin. He would always treat her as one of his mates, a romantic transaction never publicly being made—except for when they make out behind the quidditch stands sometimes. Amara had accidentally spotted them when she was viewing Ron, who had been practicing his aims with bludgers—when her gaze drifted to behind the curtains of the stands.

His forest green uniform had contrasted against his flushed pale skin, his ring clad fingers digging against the revealed skin of her milky thighs. Her legs had been wrapped around his lean torso, her back arched into his chest—her arms wrapped around his neck. Their lips had moved together sloppily, filled with utter desire for one another—her chest rising and sinking as he held her body against his. Her back had been pinned against one of the pillars, her hips slightly rising to grind into his, his jaw tightening as he smashed his teeth against hers.

There was a tingle in Amara's stomach—one that made butterflies erupt inside her lower abdomen. Her gaze couldn't rip away from the two, under a trance at the way he handled her with just the right amount of roughness. The small raven—haired girl's back had been facing Amara, meaning Draco was facing her with his front—which made her heart stutter when his vibrant silver hues met hers. His lips still moved against the girls', eyes narrowing when he caught her watching them.

Her eyes widened before she ripped her vision away from then, spinning around on her heel and leaving the field with hurried steps.

She ended up standing Ron up.

But there was on person that Draco Malfoy couldn't have. One that he yearned for with his inner most deepest desires, shaking with need. The one person that saw him as only a friend and nothing more.

Amara's sister.

Fiona Rockwell.

It was her sister. She knew that the Malfoy heir was infatuated with her, because whenever she stood beside him in the halls—he would make sure that no one else was burning their eyes onto her. She was stunning though, even to Amara, so of course she would catch the attention of many boys that walked through the halls. Other times, his eyes would be stained onto her feminine features—scanning her carefully to remember every inch of her face. There was that spark in his eyes that almost seemed like a fire, one that burned just for her.

Amara envied her sister—but nothing because of Draco. She didn't let anyone touch her, even though it was apparent that everyone wanted her, including the girls. Her blonde curls fell over her thin shoulders, her sharp jaw almost perfectly angular. Her nose was contrasted and sharp, chocolate swirls that took place of her brown hues that sunk into her pale, snow white skin. Her cheeks always had a permanent blush due to how light she was, adding onto the innocent appearance that she seemed to portray.

It seemed that Draco protected her. He always stood at her side, watching her like a hawk with a possessive persona. But she never kissed him. He was her best friend—and she knew that he had been in love with her with every ounce in his body. That he practically writhed with desire to have her touch against his, to have him call her his. To claim her so that no one else could steal her virtue—

To steal the purity that she held.

But on the other hand, he hated her sister.

Amara.

When he spotted her in the halls, his face would twist into a hardened expression that could've cracked stone walls. His lips would press firmly together, pretending like she didn't even exist to him—holding his head up high as he swiftly walked past her. It was as if she had vanished right before him, the heel of his shiny expensive shoes crushing him right down to the ground. She felt her confidence slightly waver at how he literally never acknowledged her—but it didn't affect her that much. After all, she hated him just as much as he hated her.

She guessed that the root of his hatred sprouted from her being a Hufflepuff in a family of pure-blood Slytherins. She felt exempted from her family, since her mother looked down at her for ruining the exceptional line of Slytherins that led the household. The stick as perfect and straight, until Amara had curved it with just a tiny fracture that crumbled down the entire image. The Rockwell family had an insatiable line of the most powerful and rich wizards that were deemed Slytherins—

And then Amara Rockwell was crowned a Hufflepuff.

Draco wasn't the only one who hated her for her house. Her mother, Teresa Rockwell, absolutely loathed her own daughter. Her upper lip would curl into a sneer whenever she spoke to her, voice high almost mocking with an undertone of hostility. She never really interacted with Amara, solely focusing her attention on her eldest daughter that always seemed to make her proud in every sense of the word. Whenever she would deliver a hug to Amara, it was cold and loose—her hands barely touching the skin of her youngest daughter. Her personal was stuff and irritated, but then flourished into bright and airy when Fiona came to view. Athena would feel this rock sink into the pit of her stomach at the way her mother favored her, kissing her cheek with a sweet smile.

Amara concluded that her father truly loved her. He would pay extra attention to Amara—asking her how was school and twirling her curl in between his shaky fingers. His green hues, which Amara had inherited from him, sparkled up at her with pure nourishment and reassurement that he did indeed care for her. That he would be there for her, no matter what the circumstance was.

Her heavy lids fluttered open as she heard the classroom door swung open, snapping her out of the daze within her mind. She inhaled sharply as she dug her chin into her palm, attention kit even resting on the book of Potions that was sprawled open before her. Her legs were crossed over one another, her heart still racing from her nightmare—before she felt her entire body go rigid.

Long, black trouser covered legs strided into the rooom—catching her eyes almost instantly. Her brows slightly rose as she felt her chest stutter, his hair messily laid on the top of his head. His sharp jaw flexed as he held a calm face, eyes hooded as his eyes were narrowed into his usual scowl. His brown leather bag swung across his lower abdomen, his fingers grazing against the tip of his nose as he let out a small sniffle. His shoes screeched to a stop as all eyes flew onto him, including Carrows'.

The Professor sent him a pointed look. "Mr. Malfoy. Hm. It's a pleasure for you to join us," he hummed, standing up from his seat. His brown hues grazed upon the boy's features, holding his hands before his stomach. "We've changed seating arrangements. You're now to be seated with Miss Rockwell—towards the back. Go ahead."

Amara watched as his entire face turn stiff—eyes clouding over with a storm. His upper lip twitched as he snapped his eyes over to the girl, narrowing into thin slits. She paled at the look he sent her, his fists balling at his sides, as he inhaled sharply through his nose before shaking his head. "Professor—I don't want to work with her. I'm perfectly capable of working alone," he muttered, an annoyed tone laced inside of his voice. "I'll just sit up front by myself."

Carrow's eyes thinned. "Mr. Malfoy—you arrived late to my class. And you think you can rearrange our seating arrangements?"

Draco quirked his brow—lips twitching into a half smile. "I don't have good sight, Professor. I can't sit in the back when my vision is faltered, correct?"

"Then we'll issue you to receive glasses," Carrow recountered—gesturing to the area that Amara sat in. His head tilted. "I'm sure your father will hear about this matter, and would be more than happy to purchase you a new set of lenses. Perhaps tomorrow you'll have them, but luckily for today we are only silently reading. So if you'll please—take a seat."

Draco sent him a furious look—lips curling at his words. Rolling his silver hues, he muttered alerting behind his breath as a few students chuckled at the professor's words. His feet dragged against the tiled floor as he threw his bag onto the floor, hitting it with a thump! Amara jumped at the sound as he snatched the chair from the platform, keeping his eyes away from her, before sliding into it. His gaze avoided her as usual as she stared at him with wide eyes, never flickering away from him.

He held an infuriated expression as he flipped the pages in his book—before pressing his palm into his head, blocking his face from her vision.

A few minutes passed, before he let out a sharp sound—grey hues gliding over to hers. She gulped as his face twisted at the eye contact. "What the fuck are you looking at, Rockwell?"

Her brows furrowed slightly. "Eh—pardon?"

His voice was a harsh whisper. One that she was thankful was just a mere whisper.

"Stop looking at me. I don't fucking want you, slut. Your practically dripping with desperation," he hissed, her cheeks burning at his words. Her face grew hot as her eyes narrowed into a glare, fists balling at her sides beneath the table. His teeth gritted tightly. "I saw you watching me and Parkinson down at the bleachers. Fucking stalked, aren't you?"

"I was meeting with someone," she huffed, blinking quickly. "—and don't—call me that. I'm not—"

He held his hand up, as if to tell her to silence. Her mouth fell open as he rose his brows at her. "I know all about you," he mused—looking her up and down with a nasty look. "You're a cunt. And you don't fucking exist to me—so don't speak to me. Ever. If we have to work together, then either I'll do the work or vice versa. I don't associate with sluts."

She felt hurt burst inside of her—her chest aching at the amused look he sent her. She was speechless, which led him to scoff, before looking back over at his book. Defend yourself the voice told her. The one that sounded like Cedric. Don't let him speak to you like that Amara.

Her breathing stuttered. "I—haven't even been with anyone. I've never—"

The bell rang, signaling the end of class. He cut her off by standing up from his chair, shoving his book into his bag, before surprising Amara. He leaned down to slap his palm onto the desk, towering over her, his overwhelming scent of cologne filling her senses. There was a hint of mint from the gum he had been chewing, breathing down onto her face as their noses almost touched. His face contorted in disgust.

"I don't care. I don't know you—and I don't intend to. Your corpse of a boyfriend was a fucking idiot to give you a chan—"

A gasp passed her lips. "Don't talk about him," she spat out, standing up as well. His face tightened as she stood up onto her feet, her nose brushing against his, their eyes locking with one another. "Don't ever speak about him. He's—mine. He's mine."

His expression didn't ripple. His brow rose.

"He's dead, is what he is."

And with that, he turned around before walking away. She felt her lips shake as she shut her eyes, imagining Cedric being there beside her. The touch of his arm rubbing the skin with that caring intensity he held—whispering sweet nothings into her ears. She felt herself exhale deeply as she nodded to herself.

Draco was right.

He was dead.

And it was her fault.


	2. Tricked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> —
> 
> this chapter is dedicated to dracoswhores on wattpad
> 
> happy birthday my strawberry shortcake!! muah
> 
> ily shawty bae nay!!!
> 
> enjoy this chapter everyone <3
> 
> —

_ "Better to live or die, once and for all, than die by inches." _

_ — Homer _

The dreams withered back into her, similar to the poisonous vines that had seeped into Amara's brain. Her eyelids grew heavy due to lack of sleep—brain doffed with the final moments she had burnt into her hues of her lover. Staring mindlessly ahead of her, she hadn't heard Professor Carrow call out the name of the boy beside her, who was already sending her a look of disdain. Brought out of her trance, her neck shifted as she glanced over at him. 

The daggers he sent her slapped her across the cheek—the air from her chest slowly sinking out of her figure. Cold and dark. 

A fire. 

A fire that cascaded among his pupils, ending right where it started. It wasn't a regular kind of disgust— No.  It appeared that he loathed Amara, with every single fiber within his entirety. The sneer that had grown onto his sharp features when their eyes locked made a sinking cue within her gut, eyes falling to the desk before her. 

"Mr. Malfoy," Carrow called once again, standing up from the brown platform before him. His hands folded over the base of his thighs as he leaned against his own desk—eyes narrowing over at the blonde beside her. "Tell me—what is Miss Rockwell's favorite book? Let's see if you've been.... bonding like I had assigned."

Draco's upper lip curled, face solidifying. 

But then a flash erupted in his silver hues. A twinkle of amusement, perhaps. Amara's brows furrowed deeply as a smirk twitched onto his pink lips, his eyes flickering over to her momentarily. As their gaze met, his smirk only grew. "I can tell you her favorite genre. Y'know—what she enjoys reading." 

Carrow hummed, intrigued. "Yes, go ahead." 

Draco's eyes never left hers. 

"Erotica." 

Amara's face burned a hot red—her fists wrapping tightly around the robes layered across her thighs. Snickers erupted throughout the classroom as she stared at Draco wide—eyed, filled with utter bafflement. His eyebrows did a quick  raise  motion to her before he chuckled, resting his elbows against his own desk. Carrow had awkwardly cleared his throat as he brought his fist up to his lips. "Well urm—that's not exactly  appropriat— "

"God damn you!" 

The words had left Amara's plump lips before she could control herself, brown curls swaying onto her nimble shoulders as she shot up. Her eyes were filled with pure anger, not even the flames of hell being able to rise to the height of her fury. For a moment, Draco's eyes flashed with a astonishment—but then it hardened back to his neutral persona. 

"Miss Rockwe—" 

"What?" Draco snapped—standing up as well. The class grew silent, a pin drop could've been heard. The tension stretched between the two students as their chests heavily rose and fell, looking at one another with utter irritation. His brow rose with a mocking intent. "You gonna cry? Huh?  Do it.  Fucking drop to the ground and victimize yourself. It's what you do best," he growled out—his tone as clipped as a wire. His voice dropped an octave to hide from his teacher, intending for only Amara to hear his final word, " Slut ." 

As soon as the words left his mouth, her palm met his cheek. It was quick and rushed—a blur. Her nostrils flared as a hiss left Draco, his own hand flying up to rest on his flesh. A bright pink smudge stained his pale skin as gasps erupted throughout the room, but Amara staid silent. Her eyes widened as she took a step back. "You don't know me. You—are vile. Cruel. I hate you." 

"Miss Rockwell!" Carrow shouted. "Mr. Malfoy,  sit  down. You will both undergo detention under my supervision on Friday afternoon," he bellowed at the two students, who snapped their head over to him. Draco's face twisted at his words.

"But the bloody  loon  slapped me—" 

"Loon?" Amara quipped, narrowing her eyes at him. "At least I'm not in love with someone who  clearly  doesn't love me back," she shot over at him—making his own eyes suddenly bulge. A surge of anger rushed through him visibly, body tensing and fists clenching at his sides. Her brows rose as all eyes stuck onto the fuming pair. "You call me pathetic, but look at you.  Drooling  over my sister when she could give a damn about you, Malfoy. I may be a loon but you're damn unloveable."

Her words stuck into the air, and for a moment she regretted them. Something flickered in his eyes—taking a step back away from her. She noticed his eye twitch as his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, visibly shaking with unfiltered vexation. She noticed his hues grow noticeably darker before he tore his gaze away from her, snatching his bag from the floor. 

He swung it over his shoulder before sending her a chilling smirk. Eyes glinted with malicious intent. 

His voice was icy. Steady and flat. 

"Yeah? At least my boyfriend didn't have to fucking die for him to get away from me." 

And then he turned around, storming out of the class before slamming the door behind him. The sound thundered across the room, the vibrations reaching the heels of Amara's feet. She stood frozen as she stared ahead of her, where Draco was moments ago. Her limbs had sheathed over with ice as her brain stormed over with intruding thoughts—tears welling up in her eyes. Her throat grew incredibly dry as her nails sunk into the flesh of her sweaty palms.

His words had hurt her.  Deeply. 

The world spun around her as she slid back into her seat, keeping her head down. She felt eyes burn onto the back of her head—but she kept her lips sealed together. Carrow had called after Draco, but he was left ignored before deriving away from the subject. He ended up calling on another pair of students that Amara couldn't pay attention to, trying her best to compose herself from having another panic attack. 

Flashes. His face kept fading into her corneas. 

_ Brown curls falling over his oakwood eyes. The goofy smile that stretched over his soft features—his had caressing her cheek as they laid beneath the bleachers. The words 'I love you' behind exchanged with full meaning. She could feel it. The cold weather that sunk into her flesh, his own warming her up as she cuddled into his chest. Her cheek pressed against the homemade knitted sweater his father had made for him, thick wool fuzzy against her cheeks.  _

_ He smelled of pumpkin. Freshly grown with a bit of spice.  _

A tear had rolled down her cheek, the faint taste of metal spilling into her mouth as she chewed on her lower lip. Oh—she missed him. Her true love. But he had slipped through her fingertips just last year, and left her undeniably alone. 

She never felt more alone. 

"Are you alright?" Hermione pestered Amara, sliding into the bench beside her at the dining hall. The great hall buzzed with natural chatter as the faint scent of citrus filled her senses—her best friend's natural scent overwhelming her. Her fork clattered against the table as Amara looked over at her, large brown eyes engulfing her. "That  stupid  unendurable weasel it's an absolute moron. You mustn't take his words seriously, Ames." 

"He spoke about Cedric," she huffed—thinning her eyes. "He doesn't deserve to speak of him. Actually—didn't you deliver a jab to Malfoy back in third year?" 

Hermione's cheeks reddened. "I suppose we all lose our temper once in a while." 

Amara hummed—rolling her eyes. "It seems to happen more with him. I wonder why," she murmured sarcastically, hearing a plate set down before her. A pair of bright blue hues struck down at her as the lanky red—head took a seat in front of her, making her gulp. 

"Speaking of Malfoy, aye?" Ron guessed, crooked smile growing onto his lips. His teeth flashed. "That knock you landed him back in class was  priceless ," he snickered—shaking his head. "Idiotic bloke deserved it. Proud of ya, Ames." 

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, slamming her palm onto the table. "You mustn't encourage such violence! Amara is," she glanced at her friend, twisting her mouth to the side. ".... vulnerable.  It's a sensitive time for her right now and you're just—" 

"Ames," Harry glided in beside Ron—his tray landing on the table with a  thunk!  He rested his elbows onto the table as he nudged the ginger beside him with a cheeky grin. " Wonderful  job in Carrow's class. That bleach—infused rat deserved i—" 

Hermione cut him off with a harsh slap to his shoulder, leaning across the table with a scowl. Harry flinched as he sent her a confused look—resulting in Amara letting out a small giggle as her fingers fly up to her mouth. "What was that for—" 

"You two are dull—witted. The lot of you," Hermione grumbled—swirling the straw in her water with an irritated look. Harry bit down his smile from growing as he sent Amara a wink, reassuring her that his praise from earlier hadn't faded. Amara returned his smirk as it flew across Hermione's head. 

Ron took a bite of his cheese sandwich—before looking back over at Amara. "Oi—you alright though? You didn't take the shit he said  seriously  right? It's a load. A fat one." 

Her brown hues flickered.  She did. 

"No. 'Course not." 

He didn't catch the wavering of her voice, nodding before taking another bite. While he began to devour his lunch, Hermione still annoyed while staring down at her water—Harry cleared his throat as he played with his salad. "It's okay to be bothered," he muttered—the tomato rolling across the bed of lettuce. His blue eyes fixated onto her. "I was too. He—was my best friend. I... miss  him. I really do." 

Amara nodded, her chest sinking. 

"Everyday," she breathed. 

The tension was too thick. She needed to leave—even if it was just for a moment. She deeply inhaled before standing up, leaving her bag since she would return shortly. She mumbled about using the restroom before making her way out the exit, and after a few steps and corners, she entered a long hall. The brick—wall bounced off faint echoes of voices, as well as the clicking of her black shoes. 

Her eyes were focused on the ground before her, thinking about the devil. His pale silver hues shining down at her—fair strands messily fallen over his eyes as his cheek brightened after she stroked him. The veins protruding in his neck due to rage at her words, his rings dangling from his fingers due to the sweat that slicked them. Too lost in the maze of her own mind, she didn't notice the hand that had slammed her against the wall. 

The wall was cold and burning against her back, a sharp gasp leaving her lips as she locks eyes with him. Her breathing shattered as his fingers gripped her chin tightly—fuming above her as she shook beneath him.  Was he going to hit her? Return the favor?  Her eyes grew wide as he squeezed her skin tightly, the cold rings digging into her flesh. 

His teeth gritted. "You don't fool me. You're a fucking  fraud , Rockwell." 

Her brows furrowed. 

"You don't know me, Malfoy." 

He scoffed—and grew closer to her. His warm breath fanned her nose, along with her face. She could smell the mint gum that he had chewed earlier. "Slut. You're a fucking  slut ," he growled out—her brain buzzing as he spewed down the word at her. Her chest grew heavy as he tightened his grip. "I know what you did. Sucking off Nott while you were with good ol'  Ced . What? Was one guy not good enough for you?" 

Her lips shook as her eyes watered—the story not being fully told.  He didn't know.  No one knew except her and Cedric, but still, her heart burned. Shame sprouted within her as she fell limp, his hold on her with his fingers being the only thing keeping her against the wall. Once he noticed the light leave her eyes, his sinister smile formed. "The entire school knows, Rockwell. We all know that you're an attention seeking  cunt . Merlin," he pulled away from her, wiping his hands onto his trousers. "I don't even want to touch you. You disgust me." 

Chest filled with elicited fires, lighter being held by Draco—her hand flew to it. She tried to steady her breathing with wet cheeks, holding back her sobs. She glared up at him as he shoved his own hands into his pockets. 

"Hm? Got nothing to say now that you know I'm right?" 

"You don't know  anything ," she hissed at him—her voice shaking. "It wasn't—intentional. Nott—" 

"He just accidentally slipped his dick into your mouth?" Draco crudely interrupted her, a mocking tone evident in his voice. A wave of misery rushed through her as he chuckled. " Nah.  Don't change the story," he shot at her, quirking his brow. "Tell me—how do you live with yourself? Being so utterly pathetic that you mourn over someone that couldn't give a shit about you. If he really cared, wouldn't he be more possessive? Claim you as his? But no, he let you fuck Nott because he never  loved  you. That's fucked." 

Amara raised her hand again, but this time—he caught it. She groaned lightly as he squeezed her wrist, pressing her against the wall before slamming her knuckles against the wall. His eyes never left hers. 

"Touch me again, and I'll fucking  end  you." 

And then he released her, taking a step back. His eyes swept up and down her body before his brows rose, a smirk twitching onto his lips. "Shame really. You'll never be your sister—and that's  exactly  what you want.  Pathetic,  really." 

And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked away with heavy footsteps. 

Her mouth hung open at his words, fists balled at her sides as she slid down the wall. Her knees hugged her chest as she wrapped her arms around her knees, before letting out an earth—shattering sob into her thighs.  Ice  flowered through her veins as her body tingled, her head feeling light as she quivered on the chilling floor. She never cheated on Cedric. 

Not intentionally. 

She was tricked. Deceived like a mouse in a trap organized by the clever cat. 

Not even her own best friends knew. Everyone believed that Amara had two—timed Cedric, just to protect the reputation of both her and the brunette haired boy named Theodore Nott. No one knew the truth except the deceased boy that had endured the heartbreak of a million knives stabbing into his chest. 

As far as Draco was concerned, Amara Rockwell was just a  slut.


	3. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — 
> 
> this chapter is dedicated to my biggest fan icecubewater on wattpad 
> 
> we know you're obsessed with me hay.
> 
> just to mention, app the characters are 18 or over. i first wrote slut when i just turned 16 and i don't feel comfortable writing smut about minors anymore, even though i'm one myself. 
> 
> i'm sure you guys know what i mean lmao 
> 
> also, this is after the war. the students went back for their last year.
> 
> —

—

this chapter is dedicated to my biggest fan [icecubewater](https://www.wattpad.com/user/icecubewater)

we know you're obsessed with me.

just to mention, app the characters are 18 or over. i first wrote slut when i just turned 16 and i don't feel comfortable writing smut about minors anymore, even though i'm one myself.

i'm sure you guys know what i mean lmao

also, this is after the war. the students went back for their last year.

—

The ticking clock flooded Amara's ears, but it didn't compare to the burning that had swelled within her chest. Her face was twisted as she avoided the occasional glares that Draco kept sending her from across the class—being held in detention with Carrie shuffling through some papers at his desk. Her brown hues flickered over at the silver ones that were stained onto her, and just as they made eye contact, Carrow stood up from his seat with a sigh.

"I am needed down at the library. Miss Pince needs my assistance," he muttered, fixing his robes before sending a pointed look to the two. "No funny business. I am serious. I'll be back shortly."

With a few clicks of his heels, he had exited the room and shut the door with a click. As soon as he stepped out of the room, Amara heard his chair shuffle before Draco stood up. "Hey, slut."

She looked down at her desk, chest sinking.

"Leave me alone, Draco."

There was a rush of feet stomping and clothes rubbing together, until she felt his fingers fly to the arms of her chair—locking her into place. She let out a startled sound as he dragged it into the center of the class, before bending down and towering over her seated body. She had to lean her head back to maintain eye contact with him, chest heaving heavily as he pinned her hands down onto the chair.

His eyes were cold and hard. Thinned into a scowl that left her absolutely breathless. His pale strands fell over his eyes as his pink lips parted into a gritting expression. "Don't ever say my name again. Your filthy fucking trap shouldn't utter it."

"Stop—!"

His hand gripped her chin once again, the other one pinning down both her hands onto the chair. The cold wood seared against her flesh as he forced her to look up at him, her breathing turning into erratic pants at how close they were. She didn't mean to—but she couldn't help but admire how bright and intense his eyes were. Glimmering with borderline hostility as they bored down into hers, and it hit her. He truly hated her.

Why?

He didn't know her. He knew nothing about her.

Her brows knitted together.

"Why—do you hate me so much?"

His face tightened at her words, and his eyes flickered.

And then he released her.

Her hands flew up to massage the area that he had gripped harshly, looking up at him with wide eyes. He glanced down at the ground momentarily before looking back up at her—his eyes turning into a pair of coals. His upper lip curled. "I don't hate you, Rockwell."

Her expression flickered.

It seemed like it.

And then the corners of his lips twitched. A hint of amusement flashing in his eyes.

"Hate is too passionate for someone like you. I could never feel anything other than pure disgust when your face comes up into my mind. Your name makes me want to vomit all over the fucking floor—and you know exactly why. You treat your sister like shit," he spat at her, making confusion grow within her. If anything, her sister treated her like shit. She blinked quickly as he pointed a finger at her. "And I'm here to return the favor. You know—how the hell are you even a fucking Hufflepuff? Aren't you supposed to be loyal and shit? But you cheated. And to add onto the shit Fiona has to go through at home—"

"What?" Amara growled out—standing up. Her chest almost hit his as she frowned deeply. "What shit does Fiona have to go—"

"Don't try to manipulate me," he snapped back at her—getting close to her face. His breath harshly hit her face as she smelled the signature mint emitting from his lips, a dangerous look in his eyes. He pointed a harsh finger into her chest. "Her parents aren't there for her—and at least you could be a little decent to her. You're an angel in your parents' eyes—and for some reason Fiona is deemed as the disappointment. She doesn't have anyone and it's your fucking fault. I'm going to take you the fuck down," he shouted at her, making her freeze in shock. He leaned in, making her flinch, before his lips grazed her ear.

"I'm going to show everyone just how much of a two—faced bitch you really are, Rockwell."

And then he spun around, snatching his bag before pushing his shoulder against his and walked out of the class. She stared ahead of her, completely out of breath—not understanding what Fiona must've told him. It was evident that she spilled lies into his mind, none of which are true. Amara was the one who was disliked upon her mother, not Fiona.

What did she tell Draco?

What did she tell him to make him hate Amara so much?

The days rolled by slowly. He refused to look at her, as she did to him. Her fingers would fiddle with the robes that layered onto her lap, face built into a slight frown as she stared at the teacher ahead of her. She felt like she couldn't breathe. Everything came at her in waves that she just couldn't swim past, especially right now. And Cedric. God. He kept popping into her mind, all the damn time. And she couldn't help but feel guilt rack within her.

Because she was thinking of Draco too.

But not in a romantic way. No—of course not.

She hated him. Loathed him—even. But he had a mission to absolutely ruin her, and she worried just how far he would go.

"Now," Carrow clapped his hands together—making Amara flinch. She was lost so deep within her mind that she had forgotten that she was still in class. Her eyelids were heavy with weariness as she watched him lean against his desk, folding his arms over one another. "We will be conducting a project. In pairs, you will be writing a report about a creature of the dark arts and how to expel it. It's due in two weeks, by the way."

Amara rolled her eyes. Does Draco count?

Carrow let the students work with their partners, but when Amara glanced over at Draco—his face was pressed into the back of his palm as soft snores emitted from his lips. His eyes were fluttered shut as the sunlight shined down onto him—and if she hadn't known him, he could've been mistaken-end as Uriel, red crusted wings built behind his back with a ring of white rays laying atop of his head. But quite frankly, they were replaced by two red horns and sinister black eyes.

She didn't want to wake him up—because she didn't want to speak to him. But she needed to maintain her good grades, especially since this was her final year at Hogwarts. With an irritated sigh, she tapped his part of the desk. "Malfoy."

He didn't ripple. If anything, a louder snore fell from him. Her eyes rolled.

"Malfoy," she hissed a bit louder, and this time—his eyes snapped open to meet hers. His face twisted with annoyance.

"What the fuck do you want, blood traitor?"

Her eyes narrowed. "We have a project—"

"Then do it, slut." He spat at her before resting his head back down onto the desk—attempting to recover his sleep taken away from him. Her lips pressed together tightly at his words, and she attempted to try once again. "Malfoy, we need to do this."

He ignored her, the words evaporating into the air. Sudden anger flashed within her, and without thinking, she turned away from him before shaking her beard. "Dick," she muttered beneath her breath, but when she heard shuffling behind her—her blood ran cold as shivers rolled down her spine. Slowly, she turned her head, and noticed that a pair of black icy stones were staring at her with the epitome of rage. She felt herself gulp as he slammed his palms onto the table, standing up before towering over her.

"What the fuck did you just call me?"

She glared at him. "I called you a dick, Malfoy."

"Mr. Malfoy—"

"Yeah," Draco cut off his Professor, licking his lower lip. His tongue swiped over it before it poked into the side of his cheek, brows raised as he nodded stiffly. "Uh huh. And you're a whore. If I'm a dick—then you can't get enough of me. Might as well spread your legs open now, Rockwell."

Her eyes bulged out at his words, mouth falling open in awe. That was too far. A chair screeched before a flur of red strands lunged over at Draco, along with a brunette beside him. Amara watched as her two best friends tried to grab him, but then Crabbe and Goyle stormed up beside Draco. The four of them were sending once another deathly looks as Draco and Amara never broke eye contact, that shit eating smirk painted onto his lips still.

"Why the bloody hell is he still here?" Ron cried at Carrow—fists balled at his sides. He attempted to make a step towards Draco, but Goyle ended up stepping in front of the blonde in protection. Ron sent him a scowl. "Get out of my way, you bloody meathea—"

"Mr. Malfoy, get out of the class."

Draco rolled his eyes, before he sent a wink to the girl before him. He grabbed his bag before looking over at Ron and Harry—who both held the same exact look. Lips tightened, brows furrowed in anger, eyes shimmering with the want to tackle down the blonde, chest heaving up and down repeatedly. He let out a mocking laugh. "Did she fuck you guys too?" He rose his brow. "I hope you didn't catch anything. Actually—I hope you did. Filthy mongrels deserve to breed strictly together."

"I'm sure you've fucked everything that has a heartbeat in this school, Malfoy." Harry countered—raising his brows. His voice was stiff and hoarse. He then held up his finger. "Hold on—I'm still trying to imagine you with a personality other than humping everything like a dog in heat."

Draco's smirk faded—being replaced with a dark expression. His head lowered as he flared up at the two boys.

"Enough," Carrow announced—pointing to them. "All three of you out—"

The professor was cut off with a string of screams as Draco lunged forward, delivering a nose—cracking punch to the brunette. Amara let out a gasp as Harry fell back onto the ground, holding his nose as blood poured like a waterfall through his nostrils. There was a maniacal look in Draco's pale hues, a storm swirling in them as his fist was stained with blood. When he attempted to crawl on top of him, Carrow had to storm up and hold the fuming blonde back. "That's enough! Stop it!"

"Fuck you Potter," Draco roared, fighting against the grip before making his way out. With his freedom, he shoved Ron aside before grabbing Harry by his collar and punching him again. Crabbe and Goyle watched with surprised looks at how angry Draco was—and not even Carrow could hold the passionate boy back. Harry let out a groan as Draco tightened his fist around his collar. "Fight back—scarhead. Use those chosen one powers of yours! Come on!"

Professor Snape, tall and dark—stormed into the class before yanking the blonde off the bleeding brunette. Carrow had to hold one arm while Snape held the other, using their strength to take hold of the infuriated boy. Draco was spitting out curses as Harry looked up at him with a nasty glare, Ron beside him on the floor as he tried to help his friend, Amara watched with glossy eyes as Draco was dragged out of the class, not quietly, before the door slammed shut.

As soon as the click was heard, she rushed over to her friend. Hermione was trying to calm down Ron, who wanted to go after Malfoy and beat the life out of his eyes. Amara softly brought her palm to Harry's cheek as she sent him a worried look, wiping his nose with the end of her robes' sleeve. "You're an idiot," she sighed, hearing him wince as she cleaned up the cherry—red liquid. "Malfoy is insane. Why did you say those things to him?"

Harry snorted as she continued to clean. "I killed Voldemort. I think I'm good."

She rolled her eyes, but a smile stretched onto her lips.

"Don't get cocky, Potter. But—thank you."

"I didn't do it for you," he teased, raising his brows. She felt a blush creep onto her cheeks as his eyes shimmed up at her. "If I did—you would feel guilty. So I did it for myself. You had nothing to do with it, Ames."

She paused—looking at him entirely. The world stopped spinning for a second, and her hand had faltered on his nose. There was a small hint of a smile on his lips, but it faded as their eyes locked for seconds on seconds. Her breath hitched as she felt a weird twitch in her chest, brows crinkling as something flashed in his eyes.

But then he tore his gaze away. "I would've done the same for Ginny, or Hermione. Don't worry about it."

Right. Ginny—they had broken up a month ago.

Amara nodded. "Yes—of course. Yeah. Thanks anyways."

She helped him up, holding his hands as he got back onto his feet. He avoided her gaze as she stared at him, feeling the tension grow thick as the door once again opened. Carrow walked into view with a hardened look, running a hand through his hair as the students' chatter fell quiet. His brow rose at Harry. "Get to Nurse Pomfrey, Mr. Potter. I already notified her about you."

Harry sent him a nod, before glancing over at his friends. Amara sent him a small smile, and he returned it—before walking out of the class. When he walked out, Ron crossed his arms before shaking his head. Hermione hummed.

"See," she rose her brows at her two friends. "This is why we don't resort to violence."


	4. Bathroom Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature scenes...kinda?

  
  


_"Conventionality is not morality."_

_— Charlotte Brontë_

**11.30.1998**

Amara rubbed at the back of her neck, heading towards the bathroom within the next corner. Her eyelids were heavy, deep dark circles circling around her as they sunk into the soft flesh beneath her eyes. She hasn't been getting a good night sleep lately, due to Draco's constant mentioning of Cedric—the nightmares had came back. Piercing through her brain like a dagger that sliced her brain into two equal slices, cutting off any remote functioning she could have. She felt like a damn zombie.

Pushing open the door, she walked over to the sink. Her palms slapped against either side of it as she looked up at the mirror—staring at herself. Her reflection could've shattered her internally, with how dull her skin shined and how dark her eyes had faded in. She didn't look like the same girl four years ago—and she wasn't. She died along with Cedric that night.

Before she could revel in her misery for long, a small sound emitting from one of the stalls behind her. Her brows furrowed in the mirror as she snapped her neck to the side, and when the sound repeated louder this time—her eyes widened in horror. She spotted a pair of black shoes planted onto the ground, trousers pooled around the ankles, a pair of pale bruised knees sunken into the ground. The familiar white sneakers belonged to Lavender, and Amara felt disgust wash over her as she knew who else was in that damn stall.

She flinched as she heard a manly groan. "Fuck, that's it. Go deeper—good girl."

Another groan followed after, making her face pale. Her fingers squeezed the sink behind her as she faces the stall, and looked into the crack unintentionally. She found him, within that very thin line—hair sweaty and stuck to his forehead. His cheeks were pink and splotchy, eyes hooded in lust as he didn't see her at first. She could head the slight liquid sounds as she heard him let out a hiss, looking down at the girl. "Shit—Brown, let me fuck your throat."

Amara felt waves of shock roll through her as she stared at him, and then—

His eyes locked with hers.

She froze. She fucking froze. She couldn't move, not even a muscle. All of it had turned into stone that solidified within a matter of seconds. Her fingers had fallen to her sides, body growing limp as she just stared at him blankly. She noticed his own eyes thin, and then his lips twitched, before he delivered a harsh thrust into the girl's mouth.

He didn't look away from her.

Her teeth sunk into her bottom plump lip, and she felt this pit in her stomach. A pressure that kept building higher and higher, her heart racing in her chest at a million beats per minute. Her thighs shook beneath her skirt as his hand slammed against the wall of the stall, a smirk hanging loosely off his lips as he looked up at her through his thick lashes. His hips moved at a rapid and rough speed as he grunted softly, and for a moment, Amara felt it.

She could feel herself being in her place.

Every thrust. Every feeling. His warm skin on hers. A gasp left her lips as she felt his hands on her wrists, pinning them to the sink behind her even though he wasn't actually touching her. But she...didn't hate it. Her throat felt like it was closing, and perhaps she was going crazy, until she watched him in the crack. He leaned forwards slightly, panting heavily, as his pink lips moved without sound.

But she heard him. She felt his lips graze against her ear.

"Are you my slut?" It whispered. Hot and raspy.

She began to taste blood as she sunk her teeth into her lip harder, her chest rising at the words. He then smiled at her, like the devil—before his eyes fell shut. His head turned up towards the ceiling as he let out a deep groan, the hands on her wrist holding her tighter. She watched as his chest shook, and a shaky sound left his lips as he came down the girl's throat. "Fuck—ugh fuck."

After a few moments, sweat trickling down his neck, he looked back down over at Amara. Her cheeks were a bright red, and then he lifted his hands—wiggling his fingers to show that he was finished touching her and holding her in place. As soon as she saw that, she spun around and ran out of the bathroom.

As soon as she left, she collapsed against one of the walls. Her palms slapped against them as she caught her breath, hair awry and eyes in a daze. Her thin brows furrowed faintly as she felt a burning sensation in where Draco 'touched' her, wondering what kind of spell that even was. Whatever it was, her stomach was churning with something unfamiliar. Something that was forbidden. Her breathing became erratic as she heaved deeply, her hand flying to her chest to slow her heart beat.

"Hey."

She let out a gasp, spinning around to meet his gaze. Him. His hair was messy, strands of pale hair stuck to his flushed skin. She caught the sweat on his upper lip as his robes were slightly messy, probably thrown on after he was finished with Lavender. Amara gulped loudly as she pressed herself against the wall to grow the distance between them. His brow rose. "Did you like the show?"

Her face flickered. She didn't say anything.

She was ashamed.

He caught that, which made a smile widen onto his lips. He took a step forward, closing the gap between them almost. His chest was barely touching hers as his head titled. "Are you a virgin, Rockwell? Has anyone ever touched you? Did—Diggory ever fuck you?"

"Bite me," she spat at him, looking away. That was when she felt his fingers fly to her chin, forcing her to look back into his eyes. Her chest rose as his smile shifted into a sneer, thin eyes and tightened features twisted into his face. "You look at me when I speak to you—got it?" He snapped at her, making her body electrify with shivers. He leaned in closer, so close she could taste his breath. "Did you get wet? Thinking about you being in her place? On your knees like a good fucking slut?"

"Don't touch me," she growled out at him—mustering up somewhat of a glare. "Has it ever occurred to you that I don't want you?"

"Everyone wants me," he countered dryly.

"Not my sister," she smirked—catching him off guard. At those words, his fingers fell from her chin, taking a step back. Any hint of amusement on his face had dropped just like his smile, instead a cold and infuriated expression taking over it instead. Her brow rose. "And if I'm a slut, then isn't it concerning that someone who goes for everyone won't go for you? What does that say about yourself, Malfoy?"

He stared at her silently, shaking with fuming anger that could've lit a single match. His fists were balled as she noticed blood beginning to leak from his flesh, a fire cascading across his nose dark hues.

And then he did it.

He lunged forward and slammed her against the wall, her back hitting it hard. She let out a gasp that he swallowed before his lips smashed against hers, leaving her utterly breathless. Her hands flew to his shoulders for a second, resting there—deciding whether to push him away or bring him closer. His lips were soft, and tasted like that mint gum he always chewed. And his cologne flew up her senses, cold hands staying at his side as she was at her own free will. His tongue swiped against her lower lip, nibbling on it afterwards. Her stomach throbbed.

And that's when realization hit her.

She hadn't kissed anyone since Cedric.

"Get off," she pushed him away from her, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She blinked quickly as he stood there, with no smirk. Just a blank face. "Don't do that again. Don't ever do that again," she blabbered out before pushing past him, storming down the hall and away from him.

The next morning, her head was fuzzy. It felt like little tingles erupted within it as she shook with both nerves and guilt, not really understanding why she didn't push Draco away sooner. She hated him—No.

Despised him. Wished he would get swallowed open by the ground and fall into that black abyss.

But his kiss, it held a hidden meaning. And it wasn't pure. She could almost pin it right on the bullseye, but the idea was bizarre. There was no way Draco wanted to actually kiss her, not unless he was planning something. He wasn't to be trusted, and she knew that he was dangerous. Because he could easily fool her with those pale silver hues and charming, crooked smile that held insincere intentions.

As her feet carried her, she heard a call of her name.

"Oi, Amara!"

She paused in her tracks, a small sigh leaving her lips. With a minor roll of her eyes, she looked over at her sister. Fiona. Her blonde curls bounced on her petite shoulders as she approached her younger sister, Pansy following behind her with narrowed eyes and thin lips. Amara backed away slowly as Fiona rose her brow at her friend. "Give us a sec, Pans. I need to tell her something."

Pansy nodded, sending Amara one last nasty glance before walking away.

Fiona rose her brows at her sister. Amara could smell the cherry perfume she sprayed on, her red lipstick not holding a single smear. Her long lashes fluttered. "Father is sick. Mother wanted me to tell you," she spoke blandly, almost as if she didn't care. Amara felt her knees buckle at her words. "Take that information as you wish—I don't care. But we're having Christmas dinner with the Malfoys, Parkinsons, and Zabinis. So don't be a loser—got it?"

Amara furrowed her brows, disregarding the last sentence. "Father is sick? What—do you mean Fiona?"

Her sister’s face twisted.

“What do you think I mean? It’s exactly how it sounds. Owl mother if you’re so worried,” she snapped at her—narrowing her brown eyes. Amara frowned at her with an irritated look, but before she could utter anything else, Fiona muttered see you before walking away. Her green hues followed her sister before she turned a corner, and then she was gone.

With a confused and shattered look, she walked on in the halls. Her head was buzzing with the words.

“Father is sick.”

No. She couldn’t lose him. Not after—Cedric. She couldn’t handle it. She felt a pang in her chest, almost like a stabbing sensation, and she felt her vision blur. She needed to calm down or else she could lose control. Taking a deep breath, she tried to walk normally, entering her DADA class. Carrie barely acknowledged her as she took a seat, staring at her desk with teary eyes and a fallen look.

Her friends couldn’t reach her, because the bell had just rang—and she heard footsteps enter. She didn’t even flinch, still in her own mind, as the chair beside her screeched. Trembling. She was shaking with fear.

Would her father leave her?

No no. He can’t.

It would simply be to cruel. God cannot be that cruel.

“Don’t do that,” Draco whispered to her harshly—making her jump in her seat. She blinked at him as he watched her closely with thin eyes, curling his upper lip. “You look ugly when you twist your face like that. Don’t do it.”

She exhaled through her nose.

“Fine.”

His brows furrowed at her words, but she didn’t take the time to register his expression. She looked back off ahead of her, until she heard him again.

“You look—constipated.”

“Nice observation, Malfoy.”

She heard him press his chair closer to the desk, before he rested his elbows onto the platform. His head was faced fully towards her. “Go ahead. Victimize yourself. You know—no one believes that fake shit right? It’s over now.”

She didn’t reply back, only shaking her head as she stared before her. This didn’t go very well, since he snatched her wrist from underneath the desk and yanked her attention. Her eyes flew to his, wide and worried, as his jaw tightened. “What did I say about looking at me when I speak to you?” He whispered lowly, making her heart ache.

“Like how you looked at me when you finished?”

His hand released her wrist, face paling at her words. His lips parted as he struggled to find words, finding her remark quite surprising and blunt. But then he quickly recovered, replying dryly with a, “You kissed me back. It seemed you have some untamed fires of your own, hm?”

She scoffed. “I may never be my sister,” she remarked, leaning close to him. His face clenched at the mention of Fiona, making her smirk. “But the only thing we have in common is that we’ll both never want you. Get that through your thick head, Malfoy.”

And then the bell rang, making her stand up. He stared up at her, teeth gritted and lips shaking.

He was furious.

And she loved it.

She rose her brows. “Now if you ever kiss me again, I’ll end you.”

And then she walked away.


End file.
